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I've had great responses to my post about Mr. Uniformed's restaurant hijack. Many were impressed by the fact I managed to keep enough presence of mind to say compelling things instead of "F*ck You!" (me too, that doesn't always happen.) Some thought, though, that I should have said "F*ck you." Loudly.

Today I read a Washington Post article about the landlord of an abortion clinic. He gets a lot of protesters calling him at home, making creepy comments about his daughters, showing up at their schools, and generally getting in his life in a really creepy and menacing way. The article was about how he turns the tables on these people, and gets friends and other people to call the original callers back, to give them a taste of their own medicine. Apparently it's grown into a national movement. It made me think of the release of personal information about the cop who violently mis-used pepper spray at Davis, and how people were encouraged to contact him.

So today Patrick and I were at a CatManDo for lunch, a little Nepali restaurant near Macalester. Soon after we sat down, a 40ish gentleman sat down at the table next to us, and proceeded to hit on the college student sitting along next to him. Amusing as this was, we had a lot of things to discuss and did not eavesdrop half as much as we might have been tempted to.

When the student got up to leave, the man turned to us and held up his newspaper, then said "I don't know your politics but...

...this is ridiculous! How could anyone be AGAINST needing an ID to vote?!"

(uh, dude, you picked the wrong table).

I started out by saying that there were lots of people who don't have IDs, and for whom it was difficult and expensive to get them.

"Well, how much is it? 20 bucks?"

"Yeah, and for a lot of people that's food for a week."

"Oh, come on, that's not true."

Patrick corrected him and described how many people (including his family in the past)…

Ok, here's my secret. I think Kate In The Kitchen is amazing. If you don't already, you should follow her blog, or on Twitter. She's smart, funny, and amazing with food and more so with writing. Though we have a lot of mutual friends, I have only met her IRL once, at a crowded conference, so for her part, Kate is probably either bemused or annoyed by how much I look up to what she creates.

In any case, Kate tweeted about making a grapefruit olive oil cake, and pear scones, the other day, and that really hit the spot, enough so that I felt compelled to try the cake with some rather-past-their-prime grapefruit sitting on the counter.

When I was young, my mother would often have to take me with her to meetings and such, since her childcare options were limited. The Junior League was then located at the Burbank Livingston Griggs house, and for one such meeting, my mom set me down in one room, with a big box of raisins (not the individual size, but the full 16oz package). When she came back to check on me 10 minutes later, I had already eaten the entire box.

To this day, I can't eat raisins.

Other than that, I was the kind of kid that was excellent to take to meetings and events — well behaved, charming, could entertain myself. Patrick too reports that he could sit through his mom's classes and rehearsals, with a book or some Hot Wheels cars, and nary a peep.

I thought of that tonight, when I had a meeting and Patrick was at a concert. Beatrix is great at events — she loves parties (her first one was a 400-person cocktail party, which she attended in a sling), and going to shows. I was worried about how she woul…

It's been an insanely crazy week (I would say it's been "awful," but I have such good and supportive friends that they have made it much better!) between some major/emergency house issues, being behind (and thus ticking off) clients, a hitch with one of the boards I serve on, it would be a hard enough time. Add to that a major (emergency hospitalization) crisis with my father-in-law that has sent Patrick out to DC on a moment's notice and for whatever time it takes, and you add in a lot of worry and concern and fear, plus expense, and a solo-parenting week that has been nothing short of all-consuming. In short: It Sucks Right Now.

During times like this (mainly when I am trying to fall back asleep after Beatrix's 4th, 5th, 6th-or-beyond wake-up of the night), I try to think of some way I am going to reward myself "when it is all over." Top fantasies include:

- A couple of hours shopping, even if it is just window-shopping- A couple of hours to just …